


Rules

by kkscatnip (autohaptic)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Anthropomorphic, Dubious Morality, Furry, M/M, caste system
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-27
Updated: 2013-10-27
Packaged: 2017-12-30 16:32:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1020899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/autohaptic/pseuds/kkscatnip
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rules are often unforgiving.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rules

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Silence is Consent](https://archiveofourown.org/works/781467) by [kkscatnip (autohaptic)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/autohaptic/pseuds/kkscatnip). 



Gale landed on the workshop's landing pad far harder than he'd meant to, almost ramming his face right into the wooden wall. The landing pad creaked under his weight, even slight and hollow-boned as he was, and Gale ducked beneath the curtains and inside. 

He paused there, rubbing his eyes. Twenty-nine straight hours of work just to make up for missed work from the Owner who'd canceled her contract last week and Gale wasn't sure any more if all of this work was worth staying out of overnight lock-up.

Except overnight lock-up was full of a bunch of violent, uncontrollable furs and that was the last thing he wanted. It had been the Owner's parting shot: you turned down my advances, so now I'll put you somewhere that you can't turn down anyone's advances. 

Or she'd kill him from flying when he was bone-tired, but Gale only had another two hours of work and he'd be home free. He squared his shoulders, flaring out his wings to glide down to the workshop floor and over to the Owner's office. 

Gale only stumbled a little on the landing, and counted the lack of wipe-out as a bonus. He unstrapped the message pack from around his waist, sorting through it until he found the missive marked _Velerain Workshop_. 

This _was_ Velerain workshop, wasn't it? He couldn't remember, even if he'd seen the sign on the outside less than two minutes ago. He knocked lightly on the office door, waiting obediently until the voice inside bid him to enter. He bowed once he was inside, bent more than in half, thumbs hooked together and fingers intertwined, staying that way until the fur behind the desk--some kind of rabbit something or other, by the ears--told him to rise. 

Protocol must always be observed. Gale straightened, body aching all over. "Velerain?" he asked, knowing how faint he sounded. 

Her brows furrowed. "Rosewell, actually. Are you all right?" 

No, Gale thought. "Fine." He carefully returned the Velerain message to the little pouch and sorted through the other eight until he found the one labeled _Rosewell_ in an untidy scrawl. Who would have the money for an Icarus delivery and write so sloppily? He couldn't imagine. 

What he meant to do was walk toward the desk and hand over the letter. What he actually did was take two steps, stumble, and smash his forehead against the edge of the desk. The last thing Gale remembered was thinking _At least the floor is wood, not metal_.

*

Gale came to with smelling salts being waved under his nose and Rosewell pressing a hand against his forehead. His feathers felt sticky. Blood, no doubt. He tried to speak, but the words came out garbled, not even words at all but more a series of incoherent sounds.

"Hold still," Rosewell, said. "I've rung the bell; the trolley will come soon." 

Again, Gale tried to speak, but all that came out were those frustratingly uncontrolled sounds. He closed his eyes, feeling the tears streak down his feathers.

At least the medics from the trolley were impersonal, though. They knew their work and they did it well, and by the time Gale was in the trolley on his way to hospital he could think enough to wonder what was going to happen with his incomplete Forgiveness shift. 

Would he remain Unforgiven, having failed? He hoped not, but was realistic enough to think, _Probably_.

*

Gale spent six nights at hospital. 

His knock on the head turned out to be a rather serious knock on the head, and he'd sprained his left wrist by landing on top of it, not to mention the bruises everywhere from just falling down like a load of rubbish. Avian frames weren't meant for heavy handling.

It turned out not completing his Forgiveness shift did mean that he would spend four nights in lock-up--the idea alone made him shudder. Plus he was declared Unforgiven until either someone paid the fines for him or he served his time _and_ completed his Forgiveness shift.

Spending time at the hospital didn't seem so horrible after he learned that. He might have played up his symptoms a bit, but they weren't easily fooled and just after sunset the seventh day after his accident he found himself on a trolley with his wings, riding home to find what fate had left there for him.

Icaruses weren't allowed to live alone, the same way they weren't allowed to raise their kids; his roommate, Anna, gave him a tight smile when he came through the doorway. "Been some talk," she said, her way of warning Gale that he was in deep shit. Having lived together since they were ten, they were well versed in unspoken language.

"They won't come until tomorrow morning," Gale said, and motioned to the tiny window, where the sun had dipped below the horizon and dusk was in the process of settling over the skyscape.

Anna shrugged. "Stay alive," she murmured, touching his arm, her blue jay claws and colors stark against Gale's canary yellow. 

He swallowed hard. Four nights in lock-up for a fine-boned avian like him could be death; she was right. Gale pulled her hand to his face and nuzzled her palm, her wrist, the inside of her elbow until she giggled. Making himself smile wasn't hard when she did that. "If I can survive passing out on the edge of a desk, I can probably survive anything." 

"Just don't leave me alone here," she said, and wrapped her arms around his shoulder. She was taller than him by at least a foot and her vestigial wings about twice as big, but she still needed the prosthetic wings to fly. Most Icaruses did.

"I won't," Gale promised, and nuzzled her face. Their beaks clicked lightly when they touched, and she nibbled the tip of his gently for a moment before hugging Gale against her again. 

*

Gale didn't get any flying orders that morning when he showed up at the station. They told him to go back home, and that he would have a visit--they didn't specify who, though it didn't take an Owner to figure that out. He flew back home slower than he'd ever flown anywhere in his life, and when he arrived, there was a man standing on the doorstep. 

By the look of him, he was an Owner. There were a few tell-tale signs, like his sleek coat, unmarred by the usual scars Workers tended to get by his age. Strange as it sounded, the way he stood gave it away too, like he had every right to be standing there, stance wide, shading his eyes as he watched Gale fly in. 

"I suppose the useless louts at the hospital didn't tell you not to go to the station this morning," he said, and if everything else hadn't confirmed it, the tone of voice he used would've: scornful, implying that the louts at the hospital couldn't remember to wipe their own asses. 

Gale landed lightly on the grass, as was only polite, before walking over to the Owner. He thought at first that the fur had to be some kind of weasel, but he spread his fingers as he waved and there was webbing between them. Otter, then.

Without waiting to be told to do so, Gale bowed. More than in half, thumbs hooked together, fingers splayed since he was only greeting, not delivering a letter. 

The fur touched his shoulder lightly, in the space between the harness and the prosthetic. "Don't worry about formalities. Stand up, and you have permission to speak."

Taking a deep breath, Gale asked the question he most wanted to avoid. "Please don't sugar coat it." 

A slow smile spread over the otter's muzzle, revealing the reason why otters were feared in fights: huge teeth. And a comfort with those huge teeth. "There's nothing to sugar coat. I bought your contract for four days a week and I have a couple friends who'll buy your remaining time." 

That was nice--it meant no sparrow duty, flying the letters of people who couldn't afford a full contract but could still afford Icarus delivery--but Gale's Unforgiven status meant that he couldn't work until he paid the fines, spent time in lock-up, or completed a full Forgiveness shift. "I'm sorry, Mr..." 

"Antony," he said, nodding his head in Gale's direction.

"I am sorry, Mr Antony. They probably conveniently forgot to mention that I'm Unforgiven." Gale tried not to hang his head as he spoke, but couldn't help doing it a little.

"Oh, I paid your fines," Antony said, offhandedly, like the fines hadn't totaled more than Gale made on tips in an entire year; it was a truly impossible amount.

Hearing the words made Gale's throat go dry. Seeing the serious glint in Antony's expressive eyes was--no, this wasn't possible. And four days a week, who the hell had money for a four-day contract?

"What?" Gale said, suddenly confused.

"I. paid. your. fines," Antony said, slow and deliberate. 

Gale shook his head, feeling dizzy. Maybe he wasn't quite over his bump on the head. Maybe he was dreaming; it was too good to be true. "No, I--I understand what you did. I just don't understand _why_." 

"From now on, I'm paying for your room and board. You'll live with me. They gave me a discount on the contract for that, so I could afford your fees and the fines as well. It's not unusual, for an Icarus, is it?"

It wasn't, but the only thing Gale could hear was _You'll live with me_. He was the worst at keeping promises. The _worst_. Anna was going to be so sad. Gale was already miserable. "Do I--when do we leave?" 

"As soon as you're packed," Antony said with a tight smile. "From what they tell me, a clean break is always better. Gather your things."

"Yes, sir," Gale murmured, and did as he was told while his heart broke into a thousand pieces. He tried to leave a note for Anna, saying just _I'll miss you_ , but Antony inspected the space when Gale declared himself done. 

He plucked the message neatly from Anna's bed. "A clean break is better," he repeated, softer this time.

There was a moment where the emotion welled up inside of Gale's chest and he thought he might cry, but the way Antony slid his arm around Gale's waist, easy and confident, and nuzzled him made his breath die in his chest and scared him straight out of his head. 

"Follow me," Antony said, and pulled away. 

Gale only shook a little as he obeyed.

*

Workers always thought that an Icarus was untouchable. Gale knew better than that, but he'd still kind of believed it a bit, still wanted to believe that he could say no to an Owner without drastic consequences. 

Thus, when Antony pulled Gale close to him as he showed Gale where he'd be living from now on, Gale made his muscles loose, made himself lean against Antony since that was so clearly what Antony wanted. "And you don't have to see me at all, if you decide you don't want to," Antony said, his voice a low, sultry murmur. "But I'd like to see you, if you don't mind."

Gale forced a little smile and didn't look up at Antony, but didn't pull away either. "You're the Owner," he said, simply. 

"I _am_ ," Antony said, voice dropping even lower, into a pleased sort of growl. "But I'd prefer you to—to enjoy this."

Enjoy it? _Enjoy_ it? Antony had to know, _had_ to know the circumstances behind Gale's debt in the first place. How could he—just... just say things like that. But no. 

This was better than four nights in lock-up, where they undoubtedly wouldn't care if they enjoyed it or if they broke his bones or whatever else. He'd seen avians come out of _one_ night of lock-up and spend two months off-duty recovering from injuries and this was so, so much better. 

He swallowed hard and made himself look up at Antony. "I'm sure I will," he said, and if his voice sounded strained, well, he could always just tell Antony that this was his first time. 

That, at least, wouldn't be a lie.


End file.
